Eternal Savior
by Selector
Summary: Albus has always defended the British Wizarding world. He always will.


Albus stared down at the body in shock, tears rolling down his face. Severus had been such a pretty bad, bad boy! Apparently, he had tripped coming into the school, and put his hand out to stop himself while carrying that interesting, very large, athame. Poor, poor Severus, the very image of a reformed bad boy. Why his athame had white runes on the black handle clearly marking it as acme potions athame. Severus of course had owned the very pinnacle of athames. No wonder it was so large, why the end of it must be in Severus' stomach. Unfortunately, it had brought him low, stuck straight through the top of his head like that. Now he would not be around to watch his first loves son grow and flourish under his care for the boys six remaining years at Hogwarts. Such a shame. Well, best get this mess cleared up before the children awoke. Then he would stop by the hospital wing to see if Harry had recovered from his ordeal with Quirinus. Two lovely young men snuffed out so early in two days. It was horrible.

Later that week Albus clucked his tongue. Draco Malfoy falling down all fifteen flights of stairs in the grand staircase, and then ricocheting off the wall and falling down the stairs in the dungeon was horrible, and now this, Professor Binns has apparently chosen today of all days to move on. At least it was the end of term.

The next week Albus looked at the letter in shock. Chastity Burbage was in a family way? Was she even married? How had he not been invited to the wedding?

The middle of July saw Albus shaking his head in shock. Malfoy manor destroyed, by a rundlet of erumpent fluid falling off a rotting storage shelf, in a storage area under the floor of the sitting room. All the Malfoys dead. So sad. Most of the flower of wizarding Britain wiped out as they had been having a dinner party at the time. So many students orphaned! Notts, Crabbes, Goyles, all those redeemed dark wizards gone in a flash! So, so sad. Malfoys must be genetically clumsy. Draco and the stairs and now Lucius storing things poorly. Well the estate going to the closest cousin, little Nymphadora, wasn't surprising. Andromeda was disowned but Black blood was Black blood, and little Nymphadora had never been disowned, nor had Walburga been able to cast Andromeda's' children off.

What was wrong with Minerva? First, she had been gaining weight since last November and now she was looking decidedly peaky and had developed an aversion to bacon! Hmmm so a new potions master. History teacher and of course a defense professor. Hmmm.

A month into the holidays and Albus blinked at the note in his hands. The curse on the defense position was getting worse. Gilderoy had just taken the position! Perhaps Alastor would take it.

Albus was in a tizzy, Minerva was off on vacation, not a moment too soon, as she had swollen alarmingly! Exercise would be good for her, older women should eat like birds, not like wolves, and never ever should anyone eat dill pickle ice cream. Older women shouldn't have giant bosoms either!

He could not locate Horace Slughorn to offer him the potions position. The last place the man had been known to be staying was gone, simply gone. Some kind of accidental demolition. The wrong address apparently, the muggle company that demolished it was in court trying to defend itself. Hmmm, This Miss Golden had a stellar CV. Muggle born, but still a potions mistress of some repute. Nice looking young woman. Hard to believe she could brew so well with all that bosom in the way. Andromeda Tonks was going to take History. Alastor had agreed to take Defense on the condition he got a curse breaking team from Gringotts in, and they would be finished work on Tuesday. They had had to disconnect his and most of the other Headmasters attachments to the wards and reactivate all the original wards to find the curse, but they had found it. Apparently, Tom had been angry at him personally and tied the curse to him being headmaster and having control of the wards. Now the Deputy would have that control. Too bad most of the Headmasters portraits had been stilled in the process.

Now, to deal with this request from Harry about a private room. All of these medical reports to back it up. He had wanted the boy weak, but this was ridiculous. Traumatized! These healers were so soft these days. A few lashes with a belt and they fell all apart. Why, his father had beaten him bloody on several occasions, and look how he turned out! So, a private room for Harry then. Healers could, and would, turn nasty. Amelia Bones investigating Harrys' residence had to be cut off however, so he would let this private room thing go and stonewall on the other request.

Albus smiled out at the opening feast, though he was upset. Minerva bringing her grandnieces new baby to Hogwarts as the girl had died in childbirth! Unheard of! Well, no, not really, but still! Good thing she had those elves to help take care of the tot. It was a cute little thing, with those blazing green eyes! Couldn't really expect any less, as the tot was the McGonagall heir and Minerva was the Matriarch. At least she was healthy again and down to a decent weight. Still a little top heavy though. Ah well, she was making good progress.

Miss Granger showing up wearing a choker with the Potter Crest was unexpected. Certainly, she had owed a life debt to Harry for the troll, but surely muggle parents would have resisted the easiest way to pay the debt? Muggles were so opposed to slavery now. Not like it had been in his youth, when British fortunes were made on the backs of ebony seductresses and big strapping bucks sold all over the world, Bristol, London and Liverpool of his youth was built on the back of Africa and it had been magnificent. Cities, ports, docks, canals, entire fortunes built on Africans. The courtesan moving in Harry's quarters was a given. She was Potter property after all. The Potters being so wealthy, that educating their slaves had always been the houses habit, barely crossed Abuse's mind. The youngest Mr. Weasleys reaction was predictable. The boy was obviously crushing on the boy who lived, and a collared witch would put a stop to that. Very demanding of wizard's time and attention slaves. Ah well.

Andromeda being willing to take over as head of Slytherin was a godsend. Alastor had flat refused.

Three weeks later Albus sat at his desk pinching the bridge of his nose, Molly Weasleys howler over Ron Weasleys pet rat disappearing still ringing in his ears. That on top of the Slytherin's whining over their new head all week. At least they had settled again and were now surprisingly well behaved. Eyes cast down, moving from class to class in utter silence. Silent at meals and attentive to every move from their head of house. Andromeda was doing such a good job.

Harry was being a good wizard too. A constant parade of tutors, mostly former head girls, and top witches from all four houses, tutoring every night! It was good to see the boy buckle down. Those witches having an income was good as well, as most of their prospects had been killed in that horrible accident at the Malfoy's. Narcissa, one of the few survivors of that disaster, bit of a surprise there, his agent had been unreliable, was nearly a permanent fixture in those Potter rooms. Not only tutoring but apparently aligning Malfoy and Potter. It is possible that that could work out in a few years, Narcissa was pregnant, a permanent alignment by marriage. That would get Albus a chance at the Malfoy money too. Thinking of which, he had been so busy he had forgotten to go empty the Potter trust vault this year! The Black vaults would come eventually. A few more laws and that plan would bear fruit. Narcissa needed to be watched however. She was dark and a witch, a dangerous combination at best.

A week later Albus frowned heavily, Enemies of the heir, what heir, heir of what? Heir of Slytherin? The line was dead. He would have to think on this.

Near the winter break Albus sat in quiet contemplation. He had tried to go to Azkaban to talk to the former death eaters, really to get a chance to probe their minds for clues to what they thought might be about to cost him his job, but there was a flu going round the prison and it was locked down.

Later still, Albus grumbled on the boat ride to the prison. Remove him would they! He would find out what this was and he would be ready when it attacked again. Then they would see! An hour later he moved down the hallway of the high security wing saddened at the loss to the wizarding world. All those prisoners succumbing to the Flu. It was the Spanish Flu of 1918 all over again. At least it had claimed the most deserving! Sirius Blacks cell was empty! Ha! Betrayer!

Albus sat in the Three Broomsticks agog at the paper. Sirius Black was innocent and not dead? He was going to take his seats, the Potter proxies, and the Malfoy proxies, in the Wizengamot! Oh no he wasn't! That will was sealed until he, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, judged Harry was ready to have his legacy!

Albus sat in the holding cell stunned. Sirius had a copy of the Potter will. A Goblin certified copy! Harry was emancipated. He was arrested for attempted line theft and a host of other charges. This slave collar he had on suppressed his magic, and Harry Potter had been the one to stun him, and was the master of the elder wand. A hundred years of planning and work unraveled by a stupid snake. How he loathed Slytherin and all snakes. Admittedly that basilisk was enormous, but still!

Twenty-four years later Albus watched from the goat pen behind the Hogshead as hundreds of green eyed children and pregnant witches wandered Hogsmeade. At least Minerva had stopped showing up pregnant. Fifteen green eyed, black haired, spawn of the demon Potter, apparently enough to satisfy the sex crazed highland cow.

Thirty rainbow haired spawn of the demoness Nymphadora raced by in a seemingly never-ending stream of Potter Black Tonks. Followed by her waddling along with her ten oldest hovering around her. The witch had litters, and so easily she didn't mind, so was happy to have another litter every few years. He still limped from her bludgeoner to the groin for calling her by her name. No one had cared. He was still wearing his slave collar. It was a RAC piece and proof against every effort he had made to remove it. As one would expect from the premier slave traders in the world.

Granger, the bushy headed baby factory, waddled by on the Demons arm, pregnant again, with probably another set of triplets. That would make sixty, or was it sixty-three demon Potter spawn? Red haired, green eyed, Potter Bones spawn were everywhere. Blond haired, green eyed, Potter Lovegood spawn with them. Poor young witches surrounded by rings of sex crazed, green eyed, young wizards just looking to turn them into baby factories, as their father had done with the best and brightest of the last four generations. If they didn't have green eyes their children would. It was disgusting. And there were thousands of them. The castle was full to bursting and the populace exhausted supplying it.

Well there were nearly as many muggle born witches showing up so it gave the little bastards someone to slake their urges on. Good pureblood families didn't have to lose their daughters to the ravening Potter hoards then. Too bad about those houses that had failed to control their daughters, like Greengrass and Bones, and let them be taken by Potter or his spawn, but he would need someone to do the menial task in his utopia.

The good pure families would be raised up out of the abject poverty they suffered in now, families like Parkinson, Weasley, Jugson, Gibbon and Bagman.

He looked out into the square and snorted. Riddle was still out there, cast in that block of 'resin', in his draught of the living death induced slumber, surrounded by so many wards thirty-seven people had died trying to get to him, no thirty-eight, there was a new head atop the pile today. Looked like a Nott, maybe a Flint.

The goblins were vicious, and this was their new sport. Betting on how many died trying to get Lord Voldemort free. Someone would be rich if they had picked the right day in the pool. Someday, someone would free Tom, and then they would need Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore again! "Albus! Get back to work you slacker. Worthless! Should have killed you the day you killed Arianna!"

Aberforth grinned maliciously. He would have to get another dose of the elixir from Nicholas. Albus's mind was wandering again, and he wasn't near through torturing the fuck for killing Arianna yet. Half for Albus and half for him and Albus would live to see the whole wizarding world with green eyes. Potter was such a good randy lad, and his boys were nearly as good. Yes, it wouldn't be long now, thirty or forty more years. These miserable 'pure' houses wouldn't have anything but ugly squibs with arms for ears by then. Hahahahahaha!


End file.
